


Everything Comes With a Price

by BlackBat09



Series: Bat's Prompt Fills [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: Michael's hunt takes him deeper into the woods than he's ever been, right into the arms of a witch named Ryan. After encountering some interesting pollen, all Michael wants is for Ryan to fuck him, but the witch will only do it for a price that might be too high.(Re-post! Separating Bat Does Prompt Fills into a series of one-shots due to the length of an upcoming fill~)





	Everything Comes With a Price

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Drabbles For Dayz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9552890) by [baconluver69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baconluver69/pseuds/baconluver69). 



> Anonymous asked: "fantasy myan au were michael is wondering around a magic forest and runs into a cloud of of sex pollen, he is then wondering around the forest desperately wondering around for someone to fuck him and that is when he runs into local forest witch ryan who knows whats going on and decides to help out poor michael but only if he agrees to stay with him as his pet"

Michael wasn’t lost.

Just because his compass wasn’t working, and he couldn’t see where the sun was in the sky through the foliage, and he hadn’t seen a path in a long time, and none of the cries he heard through the trees sounded familiar, didn’t mean Michael was lost.

It just meant he… didn’t quite know where he was.

Groaning, Michael collapsed on the forest floor, shifting his quiver a little before leaning back against a tree trunk, head thumping dully on the bark as he set his bow across his thighs, rubbing his face as he tried to figure out what the hell he was meant to do now that he was l- _not lost._

A little turned around, maybe.

Dropping his hand, Michael’s eyes drifted to a patch of flowers near another tree.

Another strange cry echoed through the trees, and what he’d thought were flower petals suddenly shifted and took flight with a tinkling sound, scattering into the air as Michael watched, his jaw dropping slightly at the flurry of colorful wings and tiny bodies.

Okay, Michael was lost.

There was magic going on and Michael did _not_ appreciate that, not at all: outside the forest, magic was reserved for healers and royal sorcerers. You didn’t see it on the streets, you didn’t even see it in the forests Michael usually hunted in; Michael was just _mundane_ , and that was fine! Mundane wasn’t strange, like these damn fairy-flower things or the odd sounds he kept hearing through the trees.

Michael needed to get up. He needed to do _something._

He pushed himself off the forest floor, slinging his bow over his back and sighing as he started walking in what he hoped was the direction he’d entered from. Even in sitting down and shutting his eyes, he’d completely lost where he’d come from, anxiety clawing at his chest as he stepped carefully over the forest floor. Who knew what he’d disturb if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t step lightly and pray to the gods for light feet, clutching the goddess medallion hanging from his neck in a white-knuckled grip.

“Mother Huntress, grant me the swiftness of the hare and the grace of the stag,” he mumbled, “that I may find my way home and not disturb this wood’s creatures.”

It was a stag that had gotten him into this mess in the first place, bounding away with Michael’s arrow in its side, the lad scrambling through the forest after it, off the path and into places unknown. He should have just gone for smaller prey. His father had always berated him for chasing prey too big, for being too ambitious, but Michael could never resist the temptation of a challenge. Stupid.

After walking a ways, thankfully seeing nothing bigger than the petal-sprites he’d first encountered, the trees seemed to thin, hope swelling in his chest as he broke into a run: it had to be freedom, the edge of the woods, it just _had_ to-!

The lad came to a halt at the edge of a clearing, a flowery meadow that was decidedly _not_ the exit of the forest.

 _“Dammit!”_ he screamed at the sky, at the canopy that extended over the meadow, giving him no way to glimpse the sun, to tell which direction he was going or had come from. It was just pure white light through the spaces in the leaves, no help at all.

No _hope_ at all.

Without hope, all Michael had was  _rage,_ stomping into the clearing and kicking at the beautiful flowers that grew there; he didn’t _care_ anymore, not about preserving the beauty of this part of the forest, or if there were any more sprites among the red-violet petals that he crushed beneath his boots. He wanted to _destroy_ something, and without prey to hunt, the meadow that had taunted him with freedom was his next best option.

Each stomp of his feet sent up clouds of pollen that Michael ignored, not caring about the yellow dust that clung to his boots and trousers, vicious kicks sending arcs of it into the air that Michael walked through without a thought, inhaling lungful after lungful.

Michael didn’t realize the way his temperature rose with each inhale, the flush that painted across his skin as the pollen coated his lungs and soaked into his bloodstream, pupils dilating and his breaths turning to pants the longer he stayed in the meadow, viciously crushing flowers with every stomp of his feet. By the time Michael had worn himself out, a new feeling had replaced the rage: _arousal._

He stood there panting in the aftermath of his tantrum, eyes wide and lips parted, pure confusion on his face as he felt the tight knot pulsing in his abdomen, the heat growing between his thighs. Why was he- what _happened?_

Another deep breath only drew in more of the odd pollen, made Michael squirm as his whole body throbbed with _want._ The urge to be touched, to be _filled,_ was overwhelming, taking his breath away, taking each step with trembling legs. Gods, this was the _worst_ place to be when he was wanting, no one and nothing around to satisfy the urge, leaving him dazed and aching as he walked, praying with gasping breaths for strength, for an exit, for mercy.

“Please, Huntress. Please, Planter. Please, Singer. _Please.”_

The gods were not the only ones who would hear his pleas.

* * *

It had been a long time since Ryan had seen a human in the woods that wasn’t someone’s thrall or something; most were too smart to wander this deep into the forest, to find themselves where their kind was no longer dominant. The Fair Folk ruled this land, and Ryan had only stayed safe and free by minding his own business and being useful when it was asked of him.

Being useful usually worked in his favor, anyway; faeries loved their deals, and trades for favors had gotten him many a new skill or helpful object to keep his small homestead running. He didn’t really need much, what with his cow and his chicken and his small farm plot, and it was fairly easy for him to go into town and barter for anything that he couldn’t produce himself, so Ryan never really wanted for anything.

Except maybe company.

He burned an offering to the Singer on mornings when his cottage seemed especially silent and empty, hoping the god’s affinity for magic meant that they would take pity on a humble and lonely witch, but Ryan would admit, he’d never really thought he would see any results.

Ryan was out in the woods when he heard something through the trees, staff lying on the forest floor beside him as he carefully took cuttings from a snapdragon plant to add to his garden, tucking them away and then carefully spreading the fertilizer he’d brought with over the plant’s roots as thanks before he stood to investigate the sounds. They sounded like footfalls, heavy and almost stumbling; if it was a faerie, it was most certainly a drunk or injured one, but as Ryan followed the noise, it became abundantly clear this was no fae.

He could _smell_ them, whoever they were; it wasn’t necessarily that they stank, but faeries smelled of the forest and this person certainly did not. Their steps were clumsy, breathing coming in heavy pants, little groans of frustration echoing through the trees whenever their feet found rocks or tree roots.

A quieter noise reached Ryan’s ears, a _whimper,_ and his eyes widened in comprehension, steps quickening to catch up with the visitor. They whirled around when he stepped up behind them, eyes dark and wild, the state of both their flushed body and their yellow-dusted clothing confirming Ryan’s suspicions.

“Singer’s blood, did you just _roll around_ in a patch of lust?”

They looked affronted, brows knitting as their plush, pink lips pulled into a frown at Ryan’s exasperated question. “Is- is that really what that shit’s called? That’s a stupid name,” they accused, Ryan rolling his eyes as he leaned against his staff and just looked them over.

“I’m sure the humans outside the forest have a fancier name, but the Fair Folk call it lust, which is both simple and, as you seem to have learned, accurate.” He watched them squirm for another long moment before sighing. “I’m Ryan.”

“Michael,” he answered, throat bobbing as he swallowed, tongue darting across his lips and making Ryan’s own pulse spike.

“Are you lost, Michael? Townsfolk usually don’t come this far out,” he pointed out, a sheepish flush overlapping the arousal that was already staining Michael’s freckled cheeks as he nodded. “And you got covered in lust… how?”

The lad cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck before admitting, “I, uh. I thought I’d found an exit, but it was just a meadow, so I got angry and destroyed the flowers in it. They released the pollen.”

A chuckle bubbled up before Ryan could stop it, the witch shaking his head as he straightened up. “I’d offer my help, but I don’t have any remedies for lust that aren’t a bit too _forward_ to offer on a first meeting,” he murmured, eyes raking over the young hunter before he schooled himself into meeting Michael’s eyes again.“I can take you to the edge of the forest, though, if you’d like.” Considering the lad’s state, he amended, “Or, home.”

The choice Michael had been presented with simply wasn’t _fair_ to give him in his state, not with wave after wave of desire rolling over the lad, threatening to drown him in his own want, in heat and need and, well, _lust._ While what Ryan had offered was probably the best choice, Michael couldn’t help biting his lips as he looked the witch over.

He was certainly a witch, Michael had no doubts there, what with the carved staff he leaned on and the runes stitched in his satchel, as well as the fact that he seemed intimately familiar with the forest that surrounded them. Unless he was of the Fair Folk, and Michael prayed he wasn’t, Ryan had to be a witch.

But Ryan was also beautiful, desirable, Michael’s body reacting to every place his eyes landed; from his dark blond hair and his two-tone eyes, one an icy blue and the other verdant green, to his broad chest, thick arms, and strong hands, the gent only added fuel to the flames in Michael’s belly. He wanted to touch Ryan, wanted to tug off the man’s shirt and push off his kilt and let the witch fill him up, let Ryan take him like a common whore until Michael cried-

The lad swallowed thickly before breathing out, “What does it matter?”

Ryan blinked in shock, his cheeks coloring in a flush that only made Michael more desperate to touch him. “Beg your pardon?”

“Who cares? Who’s here to stop you from offering something forward?” Michael’s pulse pounded in his ears, but it didn’t deter him from his goal, voice creeping towards desperate pleading as he tried to convince Ryan to help him. “I feel like I’m on _fire,_ Ryan, and you-” He didn’t even know how to say it, sucking in a breath to try and clear his head and not really succeeding.

“Michael, I-”

“ _Please._ I- I’ve never felt like this, never felt so hot and _empty,”_ he gasped, Ryan’s hand gripping his staff tight as he tried to stop from reaching for the lad. “You could take care of me, I know it. Hold me down with your strong hands and cover my body with yours- gods, I know it isn’t decent, but I _need_ you.” Michael stepped closer and watched Ryan shiver, the witch shutting his eyes to block out the alluring sight of the lad, but the image was already burned into his mind, the flush on Michael’s freckle-spattered skin, the sweat clinging to his shiny auburn curls, the wetness in his lust-dark eyes.

He shouldn’t. Michael was addled, begging for something that he couldn’t properly say yes to, that he hadn’t even intended to do; if he’d rolled through the lust on purpose, it’d be different, but Michael had inadvertently stumbled into the pollen, and now he was pleading for Ryan to fill him.

But, Singer’s blood, he _wanted_ the boy. He wanted to keep Michael at his side, dosed with lust if he had to, have access to that sweetly curved mouth whenever he pleased, to all that pale skin and those beautiful curls, to let Michael warm his cock whenever the lad wanted- whenever _Ryan_ wanted it.

Ryan could feel his body reacting to the filthy thoughts, length thickening under the heavy fabric of his kilt as he pried his eyes open to look at Michael.

The lad was soft, his cheeks plump and the flare of his hips almost indecent under his tunic, thick thighs filling out his trousers and stoking Ryan’s lust further. Between that softness and the fact that Michael was out hunting, not safely farming in the village, let Ryan know that stealing the boy away wouldn’t leave a widow or orphans; hunting was reserved for the unmarried, who brought their kills back to their villages to share among everyone, while the married took to farming and raising livestock to sustain a family without putting themselves in danger.

His parents might miss him, his whole village; who wouldn’t miss such a beauty?; but Ryan wouldn’t be hurting anyone, wouldn’t take Michael from anyone who depended on him. He could be selfish, keep the human for himself, and not truly do any harm.

It was probably a sign that Ryan had spent too long alone with the Fair Folk, that he was thinking of stealing a human away, that he was thinking of Michael as a human as though Ryan himself was something else, but the witch didn’t care.

“I’ll take care of you on one condition.” Michael’s face lit up, looking at Ryan like a savior, and the adoration made Ryan’s cock throb. The boy would do anything for satisfaction, and Ryan was absolutely going to take advantage of that. “You have to stay with me.”

The lad’s eager look fell into confusion, brows knitting even as he panted for breath, licking his lips to wet them before he spoke. “What- what do you mean, I have to _stay_ with you? You said you would show me the edge of the forest. Y-you offered to take me home!”

“I did,” Ryan replied with a shrug, “and now the offer has changed.” He stepped into the lad’s space, letting Michael feel the heat between them, see the want that had darkened Ryan’s own eyes, tucking a hand under the lad’s chin to make him meet Ryan’s gaze, thumb tracing Michael’s lower lip. “If you want the satisfaction, the _pleasure_ that I can give you, you have to stay and be mine.”

He could feel the little hunter’s breaths against the pad of his thumb as Michael hesitated, emotions warring on his face, no doubt frantically trying to come up with a way to both have Ryan and go home.

It wasn’t going to happen.

“Or I can leave you to solve your problems yourself,” Ryan suggested casually, releasing Michael’s face and stepping away from him again, leaning against his staff and hiding a wicked grin at the boy’s whine. “I’m sure you could find the exit if you wandered enough. Maybe one of the Fair Folk will take pity on you. They do so love pretty things.”

“Please…” The whisper was desperate, the lad on the verge of tears, and Ryan didn’t stop his smirk this time.

“Please, _what,_ Michael? What is it you want?”

“I want you,” he breathed, his whole body trembling, fists curling at his sides. “I want you to fill me and make me yours.”

Ryan simply raised a brow, seeming unmoved. “You’ll be mine if you stay.”

Michael’s resolve finally crumbled and he nodded, trying to throw himself at Ryan, but the witch caught him, kept him at arm’s length with that cruel grin on his face as Michael finally broke into desperate tears.

“Say the words, Michael. _Say it.”_

“I’m yours, Ryan, please- please just fuck me, I’ll stay with you, I _need_ you-” Ryan crashed their lips together, tongue pushing past those soft petals to dominate the boy’s mouth, panting when he pulled away and Michael clung to him.

“Let’s go get you taken care of, my dear.”

* * *

Ryan supported Michael all the way back to his cabin, thankful for his staff to keep him upright as the lad tried to cuddle closer, leaning more heavily on Ryan with every step. “Ryan- Huntress, you’re so _strong,”_ he mumbled, sounding absolutely dreamy, and Ryan shuddered as he hiked Michael up onto his feet and pulled him along, wanting to get him inside his cottage before the lad collapsed onto the forest floor. Despite the awful, manipulative choice Ryan had presented Michael with, he didn’t want to see him hurt or in danger; honestly, he had to thank the Singer and the Huntress for making Ryan the first being Michael had encountered, and not someone or _something_ else.

He tapped his staff against his door and it sprung open on its own, shutting and locking behind him once Ryan and Michael had crossed the threshold, a few quick thumps of his staff against the floor causing what looked like empty jars hanging from his ceilings to glow with ethereal light, chasing away the darkness in the cottage. Michael gasped quietly, the dancing lights reflecting in his wide eyes, and Ryan chuckled as he rested his staff next to the doorframe and set his satchel on the floor; he could handle Michael from here.

“Still needy, my dear?” he murmured, the boy taking a few moments to shake off the awe and meet Ryan's gaze with hazy eyes. He looked so sweet and dazed, any shame Ryan felt at wanting Michael like that quickly overwhelmed by arousal. “Can you talk to me, Michael?”

The hunter nodded before he could stop himself, frowning and licking his dry lips before he answered. “Yeah. Please, Ryan, need you,” Michael pleaded softly, reaching up to curl those lithe fingers in Ryan's shirt, the fabric thin and soft with wear, his obvious desperation making Ryan shudder.

“Oh, pet,” Ryan sighed, cupping one of Michael’s cheeks to feel the heat radiating off the lad, wrapping his arm around Michael and planting the other hand at the small of his back to hold him close. “The gods will never again make anything as beautiful as you, will they? The Huntress’ bow in your lips, the Singer’s kisses dotting your cheeks.” He thumbed away some of the pollen across Michael's cheekbone, licking his lips at the stripe of flushed skin it revealed.

It had to be unbearable to Michael as Ryan took his time to appreciate him, the witch’s lips twitching when Michael whined softly. “I'm sorry, Michael. It's cruel to keep you waiting.”

The boy nodded in agreement, the motions so sharp they shook free a cloud of pollen from his hair, which Ryan inhaled greedily. He'd need to be similarly affected to keep up with the lad’s needs. His pupils dilated, cock throbbing between his legs, and Ryan leaned down to capture Michael's mouth in another searing kiss, licking the fine dust of pollen from his lips, before breaking off and starting to undress the lad.

Ryan leaned Michael's bow against the wall next to his staff, Michael's quiver joining the others before Ryan guided Michael through his modest cottage, fingers laced in a way that seemed so _intimate._ Pushing back the curtain that divided the rooms, Ryan led Michael to his bed, sitting the boy down and kicking up another cloud of pollen that the witch took greedy gulps of before dropping to his knees, smirking when he heard Michael's breath catch.

His lips traced the inner seam of Michael's trousers, feeling the heat of him under his mouth as Ryan's hands found the soft leather of Michael's boots, carefully unlacing them and sliding them off his feet one by one, taking his time so he had more of it to tease the boy who was squirming and whining above him. Michael had buried his fingers in Ryan's hair, petting and tugging at it in equal measure, both delighting the older man as he explored Michael with his hands and mouth, gently massaging and squeezing the swells of Michael's calves, lips teasing closer and closer to the lad’s crotch before Ryan withdrew, leaving Michael on the edge.

 _“Ry-an,”_ Michael whined, the witch’s low chuckle sending heat through Michael's veins.

“Mi-chael,” he sang back lowly, teasing his pet just to watch the way he pouted that plump bottom lip. “Tell me what you need, dear.”

The lad squirmed, legs tensing under Ryan's hands, before tugging irritably at his own tunic and his trousers, looking at the gent with pleading eyes. “Too hot,” he huffed, and Ryan could see the sweat glimmering on Michael's brow in the gentle glow of his cabin.

“I know, dear. It's the lust,” Ryan murmured, petting Michael's thigh absently and only winding him up more. “You'll cool when you're satisfied, once I've fucked you properly.”

Michael shuddered as Ryan rose to his full height, loosening the ties on his shirt before tugging it off and tossing it away, the sight of his broad chest, thick with muscle and just a bit of softness, making Michael bite back a moan. The witch flushed, pleased, as he kicked off his boots and set to taking off his kilt, unbuckling it before unwrapping it from around his waist, letting the wool fall away and leaving Ryan bared for Michael to see.

A whimper left Michael's plush lips and it made Ryan's cock throb where it bobbed between his strong thighs, thick with blood and flushed at the tip, fire blazing in Michael's belly at the thought of how Ryan would feel inside him, the drag of that fat head along Michael's walls as the witch’s generous prick stretched him open. “Ryan-” He gasped, not even sure what to say, toes curling as he watched the older man stroke himself once, head falling back with a low groan.

A lazy smirk grew on Ryan's lips as he looked down at Michael, hand still encircling his shaft, watching the boy squirm and pant. “You want it, don't you, dear?” he teased, knowing full well that Michael was desperate for him, holding back a laugh at his eager nodding.

 _"Please,_ Ryan, I need it.” Michael finally seemed to remember that he could undress himself, tugging at the bottom hem of his tunic and throwing it to the floor, revealing tight linen wrapped around his chest that made Ryan raise a brow. The lad fumbled, trying to find the end, and Ryan stepped in to help, taking a knee, his fingers gliding across the long strip of fabric until he reached the edge, slowly unwrapping Michael's chest just to tease him, setting aside the fabric before gently touching the lad again. He shivered under Ryan's touches, gooseflesh erupting on his flushed skin wherever Ryan's hands traveled, cupping Michael's breasts and passing his thumbs over the hard peaks of his nipples.

Michael had no patience for Ryan's slow exploration, grunting and coughing as he pushed Ryan's hands off his chest and towards the lacing of his trousers, shaking loose anything that had settled in his lungs while the gent’s deft hands set to work opening Michael's pants, urging the lad to lift his hips so Ryan could pull down his trousers and smallclothes all in one fell swoop. His mismatched eyes took Michael in greedily as the hunter let his thighs fall open, the soft ginger curls above his cunt, the wetness that shone on his skin and called to Ryan, reaching up to smooth his hands across the softness of Michael's inner thighs before grinning wickedly up at him.

“May I?” Ryan asked, a brow raised as his fingers trailed higher, the younger man groaning in frustration before fisting his hands in Ryan's hair and tugging the gent’s face between his thighs, shuddering when his huff of laughter hit his cunt.

“I'll take that as a yes,” the witch hummed, spreading open Michael's lips with his thumbs, admiring the glistening wetness, the way Michael's pussy twitched before Ryan leaned in to lick him, moaning at the taste of Michael’s lust. His hips jerked towards Ryan’s hot mouth and eager tongue, the gent’s short beard scratching at Michael’s thighs as Ryan lavished his wet heat, laying long strokes over Michael’s cunt before flicking his tongue against the lad’s clit, earning Ryan a shout of his name and nails digging into his scalp as he closed his lips around the little bud and sucked at it.

An appreciative moan from Ryan sent vibrations through Michael’s heated body, cunt fluttering around nothing as he rapidly tipped over the edge, the aphrodisiac he’d breathed in and Ryan’s skillful tongue against his clit making him come _hard,_ soaking Ryan’s face in his wetness, which only seemed to encourage the witch, ducking his head to press his tongue inside Michael and curl it against his hot, twitching walls. There was something to be said for the influence of lust, as Michael didn’t find himself as oversensitive as he usually was after finishing himself off, instead spreading his legs wider, welcoming the press of Ryan’s mouth to his hot core, the way he eagerly fucked his tongue into Michael, the gent moaning as though _he_ was the one being serviced.

 _Gods,_ Michael wanted to suck Ryan’s cock.

The thought fled as suddenly as it had arrived, chased off by another approaching orgasm as Ryan’s thumb found Michael’s clit, pressing and rubbing the sensitive nub, the hunter unable to stop the whine that escaped him the closer he came to his end, back arching and thighs so tense they shook as the feeling came to a head, pussy clenching around Ryan’s thrusting tongue when Michael came again, gushing into Ryan’s mouth as he cried out. “Ryan, fuck!”

High whimpers escaped Michael, trembling as Ryan lapped his release from his folds and thighs before the witch lifted his head, his gaze wild and hungry, face shining with Michael's cum. He licked his lips before surging up and pushing Michael onto his back on the bed, the hot weight of his cock pressed against Michael's thigh as Ryan captured his mouth roughly, giving Michael a taste of his own slick while the witch’s hand slipped between his legs, pushing two thick fingers into Michael's wet pussy to give him something to clench down on.

“Gods, your cunt is so _tight,”_ Ryan growled, Michael's hips bucking towards his hand, desperate for more of a stretch, _deeper,_ too far gone to realize he was pleading aloud for just that, but he certainly felt the interested twitch of Ryan's cock against his thigh. “I'll give you everything, dear, don't fret. Stretch you open, make you a perfect sheath for my cock and then fill you with my seed.”

Michael's answering moan broke Ryan's resolve, abandoning the pretense of preparation and pulling his fingers out of Michael, replacing them with the head of his cock and gliding it through Michael's wet folds before sinking inside him with one sharp thrust, making the lad cry out for him, nails scrabbling across Ryan's upper back.

He paused to make sure Michael wasn't in pain, chest heaving and hips pressed flush against Michael's, and was immediately reassured as Michael started whining for Ryan to move, bucking his hips and tugging at Ryan's hair to urge him to _get on with it._ Silencing his complaints with a searing kiss, Ryan reluctantly pulled out of Michael's dripping cunt to slam back inside him, groaning as the tight clutch once again engulfed his cock. Ryan’s hands moved from Michael’s hips to the backs of his thighs, wrapping the lad’s legs around his waist so he could fuck deeper into him, swallowing up Michael’s moans with hungry kisses, devouring that plush mouth as Ryan pounded into him.

“You take it so well, my beautiful pet,” Ryan rasped, trailing his lips up Michael’s jaw before sinking his teeth into his neck, Michael’s walls fluttering around him as the hunter cried his name. “Your sweet cunt just clings to my cock, doesn’t it, Michael?”

“Ryan- fuck, _please,”_ he wailed, thighs squeezing around Ryan’s hips, “please, fill me! Huntress, your cock is so _thick-!”_ The witch scattered more marks across Michael’s throat as his hips smacked against the lad’s wet thighs, the tight cling of his cunt and his desperate pleas for Ryan to fill him pushing the gent closer and closer to his orgasm, capturing Michael’s mouth as he once again pressed his thumb to the boy’s swollen clit, urging him to come again as Michael’s whimpers rose in pitch.

“Show me how you adore my cock, my dear. Come for me, Michael. Come, and I’ll fill you so well,” Ryan promised, throbbing inside his fluttering walls as Michael's hips jerked, the increasing tightness of Michael's entrance letting Ryan know just how close he was before he came, screaming Ryan's name and covering his cock in more of the lad’s wetness. The witch moaned, thrusts stuttering as Michael’s body gripped him, leaning his forehead against the lad’s as Ryan buried himself deep in Michael and came, both of them moaning as Ryan’s hot seed flooded Michael’s cunt.

It seemed to be enough to satisfy Michael, the hunter sighing Ryan’s name and curling his arms around his shoulders, tilting his face up to kiss him slow and sweet. “So full,” he slurred quietly, making Ryan chuckle as he pecked Michael’s kiss-swollen mouth again.

“Tired, pet?” he hummed, laughing again when the lad nodded, snuggling closer to Ryan’s warmth, wrapping his legs tighter around Ryan’s waist when he tried to pull out.

“Stay,” Michael insisted, and Ryan listened, supporting Michael with his arms as he rolled them over so that the lad rested on his chest, dense with muscle but not heavy enough to take Ryan’s breath away. He kissed the lad’s sweaty curls, inhaling the smell of him properly now that he wasn’t covered in pollen, as Michael dozed against him.

A smile graced Ryan’s lips and he began humming a prayer of thanks to the Singer, for bringing him Michael, everything he could have asked for and more.

**Author's Note:**

> blackbat09 on tumblr, sorry for the reposts and stuff i am. a mess.


End file.
